


The Jim Gordon Problem

by druxykexy



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: AU where Oswald doesn’t go to Arkham and is still on the run, Christmas, Holidays, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, set mid season 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2017-02-23
Packaged: 2018-09-11 23:28:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9041900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/druxykexy/pseuds/druxykexy
Summary: Oswald learns that Ed has a plan to get rid of Jim, and takes it upon himself to stop it. He should have known that the biggest obstacle would end up being the one he’s trying to save.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A huge thank you to [RowanBaines](http://archiveofourown.org/users/RowanBaines) and [goth_on_ham](http://archiveofourown.org/users/goth_on_ham) for beta reading this!

Oswald hated ice. Not in general, of course. He wasn’t unreasonable. It was perfectly acceptable in drinks or hanging down from roofs or in decorative sculptures. But he was distinctly less fond of it when it was on the ground.

He braced himself on his cane, cursing that he hadn’t had the foresight to steal more practical shoes. Months of being a fugitive had led to the rest of his clothes being exchanged for items that looked suitably homeless, but his shoes were same ones from the night Theo Galavan had died. Had Ed chosen a more sensible location like an abandoned warehouse or factory, it wouldn’t have been an issue. As it was, Oswald had experienced an ever growing sense of unease as the cab driver had driven further and further away from the city limits. By the time he’d arrived at the base of the gravel driveway (the driver had refused to drive up it in the snow), the taxi fare had taken all of the remaining money he had.

He’d fallen twice on the way up the slippery driveway. He was cold and miserable, and while it was of the utmost importance that he dealt with what was in the barn, he was tempted to stop at the farmhouse and rest for a few moments before going the rest of the way. He was still in the process of making up his mind, when he heard footsteps crunch in the snow behind him.

“Hands in the air, Cobblepot!” Jim shouted.

Oswald’s pulse quickened. Jim shouldn’t have been here yet. He hadn’t thought Ed would have gotten to this stage of his plan yet. This was bad.

“Is that any way to talk to an old friend?” Oswald said, hoping to stall him while he came up with a way to explain this to Jim without entirely alienating Ed in the process.

“I said put your hands up. Now.” Jim’s voice had become closer.

“If I do that I’m likely to fall, and you don’t want to be accused of police brutality, do you?” Oswald didn’t move, he knew Jim wouldn’t shoot him. He might be acting tough now, but as long as he held still, Jim wouldn’t actually do any—

Oswald gasped as Jim slammed into him, taking them both to the ground. The ice made it impossible to slow his fall and he landed hard on his wrist, the side of his face crashing into some boney part of Jim.

From the way Jim grunted, Oswald suspected he hadn’t intended it to go quite that badly either. Good, he hoped he bruised.

“Was that necessary?” Oswald demanded.

“You’re under arrest.” Jim forced Oswald onto his stomach, wrenching his arms behind his back.

“Ow!” Oswald hissed as the cuff locked onto his injured wrist. “Jim—”

“You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say—”

“Why are you arresting me?” Oswald’s voice had gone high, frantic.

“Don’t play dumb.” Jim proceeded to read him the rest of his rights while Oswald tried to figure out what this was about, because it couldn’t possibly be about Galavan.

“Where’s your weapon?” Jim asked, jarring Oswald from his thoughts.

“What—I don’t have a weapon. Wait—what are you doing?” Oswald tensed as Jim’s hands slid up beneath his coat, patting him down and sliding into his pockets— _ searching _ him, he realized.

Oswald was offended. Jim was treating him like some common criminal, accusing him of lying when he most certainly was not, and handling him so roughly—just the thought of Jim hauling him into the precinct sporting a bruise was too much to bear.

“You shouldn’t treat me this way, Jim,” Oswald said, this time his voice low and dangerous. “You need to remember that in certain matters, I’m the only ally you have.”

“You’re not my ally at all,” Jim said, and Oswald was taken aback by the anger in his voice. “And the proof of that is in the barn.”

Oswald tensed as the realization hit him. Ed had blamed everything on him. It made sense. How else would Ed convince Jim to come alone to such a remote location? Since Ed didn’t intend for Jim to survive, he wouldn’t have seen it as harmful to use information maligning Oswald as bait. But still, it didn’t sit well with Oswald that Jim’s final thoughts would have been that he’d been the one responsible for Jim’s downfall.

“It’s hardly a surprise,” Jim continued. “You betray everyone who stands in the way of your ambitions. And I imagine you got tired of being on the run.”

“Don’t go in the barn.”

Jim huffed, as if Oswald’s request was absurd. He got to his feet, and then bent down to lift Oswald up as well, holding onto him even after he had his balance.

“C’mon.” Jim adjusted his grip on his arm, as if he intended to drag him if it became necessary. “You’re going to show me exactly what you have in there.”

“I don’t—” Oswald cut off his protest. He shifted around to look at him, ignoring the pang he felt at the disdain on Jim’s face. “The barn is a trap. You don’t want to go in there. It isn’t me who’s setting you up.”

“And I’m supposed to believe it’s Nygma?” Jim shook his head. “I’ve known him a long time. He wouldn’t do that.”

Oswald’s heart twisted a bit at the conviction in Jim’s voice, at the thought of how disappointed Jim was going to be when he found out the truth.

“I know it’s hard to accept, but he’s been…” Oswald hesitated, not wanting to sell Ed out either. “Mistaken about some things. If we all sit down and talk—”

“Shut up.” Jim started to pull him across the ice. “Let’s go.”

Oswald stumbled along, but after only a few steps he slipped again. This time Jim caught him.

“Oswald.” Jim’s voice was low, a warning.

“I’m not faking!” He glared at him. “I could barely make it when I had my cane and  _ before _ my hands were cuffed behind my back. If you want me to walk all that way it’s going to be slow, so just—ah!”

Jim had put his hands on Oswald’s waist and was bracing himself as if he intended to pick him up. Oswald jerked away, the sudden movement making them both have to catch their balance.

“Hold still,” Jim barked at him. He appeared to be testing his footing for a second attempt.

“No, you’ve already knocked us to the ground once, I will not let you do it again!”

To his amazement, Jim actually did stop. He gave him a long contemplative look.

“You might have a point,” Jim said finally.

“Of course I do.” Oswald continued quickly when Jim’s eyes narrowed. “Why don’t you let me use my cane?”

“Not when you’re likely to hit me with it.”

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t make it so tempting, Jim.”

The rebuke seemed to catch Jim off guard, and Oswald saw the briefest smile flicker on Jim’s face before he caught it and returned to scowling.

“Is there anyone in the farmhouse?”

“There shouldn’t be, not yet anyway, later, ah, Ed should arrive.”

“Sure,” Jim said, disbelievingly. He slid an arm under Oswald’s arms and around his back to keep him from falling as they moved the shorter distance to farmhouse. Oswald took the time to practice his arguments to convince Jim of what he needed to do.

“While it’s true, I’ve lied to a lot of people,” Oswald said as he was guided to sit on the porch swing. “I have always been honest with you, Jim, in every matter of importance.”

He could see his words weren’t having the desired effect. He needed something to say, something Jim would actually believe. “You saved my life and that’s not something I forget. So let me save yours now.”

“Because Nygma left a trap for me. Sorry, not buying it.” Jim bent Oswald forwards so he could access the cuffs behind his back.

“Don’t be foolish.” Oswald’s tone was rising, getting more desperate. “An ending like this would be beneath you.”

“Save it.” Jim uncuffed one of Oswald’s wrists, the injured one, thankfully, and then attached the cuff to the porch rail. It was sturdy, Oswald noticed with dismay, it would take him at least an hour to work himself free.

Jim turned to leave the porch.

“You’re making a mistake!” Oswald called after him, but Jim didn’t respond. Oswald looked around, but there was nothing he could see to help him. “Just—be careful!  _ Please _ .”

Oswald watched as Jim approached the small door on the side of the barn. He was moving with caution at least, but it was of little comfort when he disappeared into the building.

For a long moment Oswald could see nothing, but then he caught a glimpse of Jim through the window. He took that as a good sign, that Jim was still up and moving and alive. But before he could feel any real sense of relief, he heard a sudden loud ratcheting sound, out of place in the silence of the woods.

He watched Jim suddenly lunged backwards, but it was too late, there was blinding burst of light, too bright for Oswald to do anything but shut his eyes against, and when he opened them again, Jim could no longer be seen through the window.

Oswald’s chest clenched. Jim couldn’t be dead. He just…he couldn’t be.

Even though he knew there was little chance he would be heard, he resumed shouting. “Jim? Jim!”

No response, so sound of movement.

Oswald turned his attention to the porch rail. He would break free and then go investigate inside the barn. There was always a chance that Jim was lying there hurt and could still be saved.

He was in the process of determining which part of the railing would be the most beneficial to kick, when he heard the distant creak of old hinges.

Oswald jerked his head up, and was flooded with relief to see Jim stagger out of the barn door. He looked dazed, and his coat was missing, but otherwise he didn’t seem harmed, although Oswald would be able to tell more when he got closer.

“Jim!”

At the sound of his voice Jim looked in his direction. He seemed almost startled to see him, but did start heading in his direction.

As he got closer, Oswald noted that there was no sign of bruising on Jim’s face or blood on his clothes, but he still wasn’t entirely reassured.

“Jim! Are you ok? What happened? I saw the…” Oswald’s words trailed off as he caught sight of the anger on Jim’s face. It could only mean one thing, and fear twisted hard in Oswald’s stomach.

“It wasn’t me! I warned you! Repeatedly! I—” Oswald’s words cut off as Jim’s fingers cupped his jaw, his touch startlingly gentle as he tilted Oswald’s face to the side.

“Who hit you?”

Oswald blinked in confusion. “What?”

“Are you hurt anywhere else?” Jim’s eyes flicked over him only to land on the handcuffs and narrow. “Who did this?”

Jim’s voice was so low and angry, all in defense of him, and it sent heat through Oswald’s veins. But even so, it was a bad sign. The blast must have caused significant disorientation. Oswald only hoped it wouldn’t be permanent.

“I…” Oswald wasn’t certain what to tell him, but he was saved from that as Jim began to search through his own pockets.

“Damn it, I don’t have my key on me.”

“In your jacket, perhaps?” Although Oswald regretted saying it the moment the words were out. He didn’t want Jim to go back in the barn and risk getting a second dose of whatever had been done to him—even if it did increases the chances that Jim would set him free.

Jim gave him an odd look. “You know it wouldn’t be in my jacket.”

Oswald had no idea how Jim would expect him to know that, but he didn’t want to make things any more confusing for him in his current state, so he just smiled.

“Of course, how silly of me.”

“Can you remember what happened?” Jim glanced around as if he expected an attacker to burst out of the woods. “How we got here?”

Oswald hesitated, turning over the options for what to do next in his mind. While Jim was acting strangely, he wasn’t sure if he needed medical attention or if time would be enough to set him right again. He suspected it would be awhile before Ed came back, but he couldn’t be sure of that. It might be safer to get Jim away from here sooner rather than later. He didn’t know if Jim could drive like this, but he could—well, if he could talk Jim into letting him drive his car.

“Not much,” Oswald lied. “I awoke on the porch.”

“That’s alright, just let me know if anything important comes to you. For now, let’s work on getting you free.” Jim examined the railing, much like Oswald had before. After a moment, he kicked the post to loosen the railing, and then managed to lift the top bar until the slat Oswald was cuffed to came free, making a much faster job of it than Oswald had estimated.

Oswald started to get up, but stopped in surprise when Jim sat down on the swing beside him.

“You could have frozen to death out here.” Jim frowned, his eyes going to Oswald’s coat. “At least they put a jacket on you.”

Oswald was confused for a moment, but then realized that if Jim didn’t remember that he was a fugitive, then he would still be expecting him to dress the way he used to.

“Small mercies.” Oswald gave him a quick smile. It was truly bizarre how nice Jim was being to him. While he would never wish any sort of serious brain damage on the man, he had to admit he wouldn’t mind if some of this new attitude remained after he recovered.

“Here, let me see your wrists.” Jim didn’t wait for Oswald to comply, simply took the one he had just freed into his hands, examining the faint redness beneath the cuff as if somehow that was an injury worthy of notice. Then he moved onto the second one, and when he saw how it had begun to swell, he let out a muffled curse.

“What happened?” Jim prodded it carefully, and Oswald tried, but couldn’t quite suppress his wince.

“I fell,” Oswald said before he remembered he wasn’t supposed to know that. “At least, I think I did.” Luckily Jim didn’t seem to notice.

“I’m sorry you got hurt,” Jim said, his voice so sincere it made Oswald’s heart ache. “This is all my fault you were involved. I promise it won’t happen again.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m sure—” Oswald’s words were cut off when Jim kissed him.

Oswald’s mouth parted in shock, and Jim seemed to take that as an  _ invitation _ . He deepened the kiss, and for a moment Oswald could do nothing, simply blink and try to process what was happening—but then he decided it didn’t matter, only that it  _ was _ , and he kissed him back. He wrapped his hands in the front of Jim’s shirt, ignoring the pain in his wrist and holding him as close as possible.

But all too soon, Jim was pulling back from him.

“As much as I’d like to keep doing that,” Jim said, his voice low and warm. “We need to get out of here before whoever took us gets back.”

“Of course.” Oswald spared a small curse for the imaginary enemies that made leaving so quickly such a priority.

“My phone is gone. I don’t imagine you have yours either?”

He needed to say no. If Jim learned of the cheap burner phone in his pocket, he was likely to call Harvey or someone and then Oswald was going to go right back to being in custody, but it was so hard to come up with a convincing lie when his lips were still tingling from the pressure of Jim’s mouth on his.

Besides, another theory was starting to form. It was possible Ed had listened to Oswald after all. That his insistence that Jim wasn’t to be hurt had been taken to heart, and perhaps the purpose of the trap was simply to erase some of Jim’s memories—although why he was suddenly so  _ friendly  _ was harder to explain, possibly some unintentional side effect, but regardless, it wasn’t harmful. Ed, he decided, was a good friend.

“Jim, I’ve remembered something.” Oswald took a quick breath, hoping to decrease the excitement that had entered his voice. “Ed helped us, the men responsible for this won’t be coming back.”

Jim frowned. “Ed?”

Oswald faltered. “You do remember Ed? Nygma?”

A look of disbelief crossed Jim’s face. “The forensics guy?”

“Yes, he, uh, found evidence. They’ve all been arrested.” Oswald was proud of himself for not slipping and using less fortunate phrasing such as  _ taken care of _ .

“We need to contact the precinct,” Jim said, nodding. “Maybe there is a phone in the house.”

Oswald felt a stab of dismay at that last part, because it was probably true.

“That’s not necessary. It’s been taken care of. Ed will be back soon.”

“He was here?” Jim’s frown deepened. “And he left you handcuffed?”

“He’s going to get a key…” Oswald’s words trailed off at the look of skepticism on Jim’s face. He wasn’t buying his story, and he really couldn’t blame him because it wasn’t a very good one. “Just, trust me please?”

Jim sighed. “You know I do.”

It was all Oswald could do to hide his shock at that response.

“Alright, fine,” Jim said, relenting. “But let’s go inside and get warm while we wait.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

 

The door to the farmhouse was locked, but after a brief search, a key was discovered beneath the mat. Its presence filled Oswald with a sense of foreboding. It was unlike Ed to leave anything so unguarded, and when Jim inserted the key into the lock, he half expected it to release a cloud of toxic gas from the rafters, or maybe trigger a crippling electric shock. But nothing harmful happened as the door swung open and Jim let them into the house.

Of course, the house didn’t belong to Ed, he’d merely gained access to it somehow, so maybe there was no reason for concern.

Oswald waited in the doorway while Jim made a quick check of the house. Once Jim was certain that no one was home, he led Oswald into the kitchen.

“I don’t know how long we’ll be here, but I’m going to put some wood in the stove and get us something warm to drink.” Jim moved a kitchen chair close to the stove, a black cast iron thing with a pipe that disappeared up into the ceiling. “Sit here while I get it ready.”

Oswald took a seat and watched Jim while he lit the stove. It was hard to work out exactly what Ed had done to him. The memory loss was a given, and he could see the use Ed would have for that, but there was certainly no reason for him to make Jim so kind or, well, affectionate. Although it was true that in his current state Jim was more trusting, and Ed would see a benefit in that, but it didn’t explain the rest.

There was another possibility however. If Jim had been stripped of his recent memories, but the emotions he harbored were still intact, there was a chance that this really was how Jim felt about him. The amnesia had simply made Jim forget about why he  _ shouldn’t _ feel that way.

The more Oswald thought about it, the more sense it made. Jim no longer had any reason not to act on the tension they both could so clearly feel. Deep down inside, Jim felt just as strongly about Oswald as Oswald did about him.

Oswald was still mostly lost in these thoughts when Jim told him he needed to fetch something from another room, but once he was alone, it occurred to Oswald what an important opportunity this was. He quickly retrieved his phone from his pocket and sent a quick message to Ed:

_ Important development. Stay away from the farmhouse. _

Afterwards he silenced it, not wanting it to ring and have to explain to Jim why the “kidnappers” hadn’t taken his, since his own claim of a memory lapse could only account for so much.

Jim returned carrying a small red plastic box. He stopped to take something from the freezer before dragging a chair over so he could sit facing Oswald.

Jim opened the box, revealing it to be a first aid kit.

Oswald sat in mute amazement as Jim took hold of his right hand, carefully pulling off his glove and rolling back his sleeve to expose his injured wrist. Jim began doing a series of tests, applying light pressure and bending it just so, stopping immediately when Oswald inhaled sharply from pain.

“I think it’s just sprained, won’t know until we get it x-rayed though.” Jim wrapped an ice pack in a thin cloth and set it on Oswald’s lap, positioning his wrist on top of it. “Let’s get the swelling down and then I’ll wrap it.”

Oswald blinked at him, his vision suddenly blurry. No one had been this nice to him since… Well, not since his mother. He hadn’t realized how badly he’d missed it—to be fussed over, to be treated as if he were important.

“I don’t think there’s much I can do for this, that bruise is just going to get worse.” Jim brushed Oswald’s hair away from his face. He softly dabbed around Oswald’s eye with some gauze, and then smoothed some type of ointment into his skin. The smell was strong and somewhat unpleasant, but Oswald didn’t mind. He would be content to let Jim do this to him forever.

But all too soon, Jim determined that Oswald’s wrist was safe to bandage, and then it was quickly wrapped and Jim was getting up.

“Don’t you want to stay and warm up?” Oswald asked, trying not to sound too pushy about it, but probably failing.

“I’m getting us something to drink first.”

Jim moved about the kitchen. He hadn’t asked Oswald what he wanted, and after a moment the scent of coffee filled the air. Oswald realized he was wrinkling his nose and quickly made himself stop. Later he would have to set Jim straight on his preferences, but for now he was fully prepared to pretend to like whatever Jim gave him. It was far more important to preserve the moment.

“Is that coffee I smell?” Oswald said cheerfully, when Jim returned with two mugs.

Jim snorted. “Don’t even start.”

Oswald blinked at him, not sure what he’d done to earn that response. His confusion only grew when Jim pushed a cup into his hand that was filled with a liquid that was significantly lighter than coffee.

“You made me tea?” Oswald asked, confused.

Jim frowned. “You saw me heating the water. It’s freezing out. I thought—”

“No, it’s…” Oswald looked down at the cup and back up at Jim. “Exactly what I wanted.”

“Good. And no complaining about the tea blend or whatever. I didn’t stock the kitchen.”

Oswald beamed at him. “I wouldn’t dream of it.” It was impressive that Jim had managed to pick up such a minor detail about him, considering how little time they’d actually spent together where such knowledge would have been applicable. But then again, Jim was unusually observant, he was a detective after all.

Jim turned his chair so he was sitting beside Oswald instead of across from him, even though that put him further from the stove and he hadn’t had nearly as much time to warm up as Oswald had. But before he could point that out, Jim had put an arm across the back of Oswald’s chair, just touching his shoulders, and Oswald’s chest was flooded with warmth.

He would make this work. When Jim came to his senses, he wouldn’t let this go. He would do anything to make this into something between them.

“You’re staring at me,” Jim said.

Oswald started. “Oh, it was—I’m sorry if I seem a little off. It’s been quite a day. Seeing you go into the—I mean, when I awoke you were gone and then not knowing if you were hurt, it, well, it unsettled me, and—”

“It’s OK.” Jim gave him a lopsided smile before leaning in to brush his lips against Oswald’s cheek. “I love you too.”

Oswald inhaled sharply. He opened his mouth to speak, but he couldn’t, his thoughts were in too much of a jumble to become words. He knew they had a connection, had sensed it from the beginning, but… _ Jim loved him? _

His heart was pounding, but more than anything it was from excitement because this was better than anything he could have imagined. Maybe this  _ was _ love. He’d never experienced it before so he didn’t know what it was supposed to feel like. It was very likely he’d loved Jim all along too, but had been suppressing it because the thought that it could be returned had seemed so impossible.

He should say something to Jim. To let him know that his affections were not unwelcome. He just had to think of a way to—

“And here I thought your one-sided infatuation was insufferable,” a familiar voice—a voice belonging to someone Oswald had  _ specifically _ told to stay away—came from the doorway.

Oswald tensed, but Jim was faster. He sprang out of the chair, placing himself between the door and Oswald, only to relax when he recognized who it was.

Oswald got to his feet. He stepped around Jim just in time to catch Ed’s frown.

“When I was informed that there was an important development,” Ed said, his eyes scanning Oswald with something in between scrutiny and suspicion, “this was not what I imagined.”

Oswald’s heart began to race. This was bad. If Ed thought Oswald had prevented Jim from entering the barn, it would be impossible to predict what he would do. He needed to talk to Ed alone before he said or did anything to cause more problems.

“Did you come here alone?” Jim asked, frowning.

Ed looked surprised at that, and Oswald spoke quickly before the situation could deteriorate any further.

“Ed, Jim needs medical attention. I need to take him somewhere to have him checked out before we go to the station.” And then, in an attempt to put Ed at ease that his plan had worked, he added, “He’s suffering from memory loss.”

Jim turned to frown at Oswald, which was fortunate, because he missed the way Ed’s expression shifted, going from one of confusion to sly comradery, as if he were enjoying the good  _ joke _ they were playing on the detective.

There was a time when Oswald might have appreciated that, the joy of having a fellow conspirator, but not in this, and not especially now that he knew how Jim felt about him. Oswald had no intention of being dishonest with Jim at all—or, well, beyond what was absolutely necessary.

“Right. I have a car,” Ed said at the exact same moment Jim said, “I’m fine. I don’t need a doctor.”

“Certainly.” Ed spread his hands out in front of him. “Better to get the paperwork out of the way. I can take you to the precinct.”

Oswald frowned. He didn’t like where Ed was going with this. Obviously, a wanted criminal couldn’t go with them to the GCPD, and he didn’t trust Ed’s intention to separate him from Jim, not when he still didn’t know what Ed had done to him in the first place.

“Good, let’s go,” Jim said. He and Ed left the kitchen with Oswald following silently behind them, his mind desperately trying to come up with a plan and failing.

“Jim?” Ed said once they were outside. “Would you mind if I talked to Oswald for a moment?”

Jim glanced at Oswald, as if checking if he was fine with that, and Oswald quickly nodded that he was.

“Sure,” Jim said. “Let me have the keys, I’ll wait in the car.”

Oswald was relieved that he’d have a moment to talk to Ed before they left. He started to turn towards him, but was stopped with a touch on his arm.

Jim was looking at him with an expression that was so openly fond, it made Oswald’s breath catch.

Jim stepped closer, gathered him into his arms and once again Oswald found himself the recipient of a kiss. It was brief but affectionate, and far more than Oswald would have ever dared to hope for before today.

“Don’t worry about me, alright?” Jim said.

“Alright,” Oswald agreed before he realized what he was saying. “Wait—”

Jim pressed a brief kiss to his lips, shutting him up. “You don’t remember everything either. And your wrist needs to be x-rayed. We’ll both get looked at after I check in at the precinct.”

The concern in Jim’s voice was touching. Ever since he’d come out of the barn there wasn’t anything he’d done that wasn’t protective or nice. Jim wanted Oswald to be fine, not just physically, but emotionally as well. No one ever wanted that.

Yes, this was most certainly love.

Ed cleared his throat behind him.

“Right.” Oswald smiled at Jim as he stepped back. Jim gave him a brief nod before going to unlock the car.

Ed would surely be irritated that Oswald had interfered with his plans, but he was confident that they’d be able to work it out.

But to his surprise, he found Ed was grinning. “Well, you’re certainly enjoying parallel-universe-Gordon more than I expected.”

Oswald frowned because that hadn’t made any sense. “Parallel-what?”

Ed rubbed his hands together the same way he always did when he was about to go on a long tangent about something Oswald cared nothing about.

“See my machine—well not  _ my _ machine, it’s not my design per se, but mine since I found it—”

“Get to the point,” Oswald snapped, a sick feeling rising in his stomach.

“—borrowed it, whatever—takes something from one universe and exchanges it for something in another one. My first test subject was an apple, and then when that didn’t explode, I decided to put it to good use and find out what the alternate version of a certain detective was like. And in that universe, boy does he like you.”

Oswald felt a cold shock go through him. “No. That doesn’t make sense.” But it did, in a way. At least it was easier to think that a device like that could exist than to believe the alternative—that Jim actually loved him.

“Oh, come now, you couldn’t possibly have thought this was the same Jim Gordon. I mean, look at how he reacted to  _ you _ ? Obviously, he had to be a completely different person to…” Ed trailed off, frowning at something in Oswald’s expression. “Oh. You did.”

Oswald disliked Ed’s pitying look even more than the conspiring one.

“You asked me not to kill him, so I thought if I—”

“How is this not just as bad?” Oswald shouted.

“Well, if you think about it—”

“Don’t say anything. Just…stop talking.” Oswald closed his eyes to blot out Ed’s expression and took a slow breath in and out.

Finally, when he felt like he could speak without yelling, he looked back at Ed, whose expression was thankfully more neutral now.

“So, if this isn’t our Jim—where is he? He’s not—he can’t be dead, can he?” The thought that something terrible might have happened to Jim drove away any disappointment he felt that Jim hadn’t actually admitted any affection for him whatsoever.

“It’s impossible to know. Although if other you in that universe kisses him like this one did you…” Ed shrugged, the faintest smirk crossing his face. “Then he might be in prison for murder.”

Oswald blanched. It wasn’t hard to imagine how terrible Jim’s reaction would be if Oswald ever did try to kiss him. And beyond the repercussions for Jim, it was a disturbing thought, that their incompatibility was so vast reaching that it could even destroy the happiness of their parallel selves in some alternate universe.

“On the upside, I think this Jim will let you keep him,” Ed continued.

“What are you talking about?”

“I follow you home, but my cost is not nothing, even when free. I offer companionship, but I’ll only stay if you provide for my needs. What am—”

“Jim is not a whore,” Oswald hissed.

Ed looked slightly scandalized at his outburst. “That wasn’t—the answer was ‘pet.’”

“That’s  _ not _ better.” Oswald fought down the urge to strangle him. “It’s the wrong Jim!”

“Well, I’m sure there will be a bit of an adjustment period, but—”

“Oz?” Jim called from the car. “Is there a problem?”

“No—I mean, yes. Sort of.” He rubbed at one of his temples. “Give me a moment.”

Oswald turned back to Ed. “You have to switch them back!”

“No can do.” Ed shrugged as if the decision was out of his hands, but his eyes were cold. “I refuse to go to jail. Besides this was what you wanted. I didn’t kill him…which honestly would have been a lot simpler.”

Oswald took a deep breath to contain all the anger and  promises of murder that were threatening to spill forth, reminding himself that Ed only responded to reason—or his version of it anyway.

“You have my word that if you switch them back,” Oswald said, and then spoke faster when he heard the car door open, “I won’t allow you to go to jail, no matter what it takes.”

Ed looked skeptical. “Look, I’m sorry that you were fond of Jim, but I don’t see how I can make a deal like that when you don’t even have a plan.”

“I always get what I want when it matters.” Oswald heard Jim’s footsteps crunching in the snow. “Trust me.”

Ed groaned, flapped one hand in an indecipherable motion, and then said, “Fine. But if you fail he dies.”

That wasn’t something Oswald would let happen, but since saying that would be counterproductive, he kept it to himself.

“You won’t regret this.”

“Won’t regret what?” Jim asked, his eyes went to Oswald’s expression and something must have alarmed him, for his stance changed, as if preparing for a battle.

“I’ll let you explain,” Ed said, nodding to Oswald before taking a step back, presumably out of swinging distance.

“What’s wrong? Tell me what happened.” Jim’s tone had dropped, gone commanding, and with anyone else that would have brought anger—or in less fortunate circumstances, fear—but when Jim did it, Oswald just wanted to curl up in his lap. It wasn’t lost on him that this had almost been an option, but after what he had to say, it never would be again.

“No, not wrong, well…it’s going to be hard to believe.” Oswald braced himself. “Apparently the reason why you don’t remember how you got here is because well…there was this device, and it, uh, transported you to a parallel universe where you switched places with another version of you. So this isn’t your world. Or reality, or, well, I know it sounds ridiculous, but it’s the truth.”

Oswald expected disbelief, maybe the insistence that it was a joke, but Jim’s expression only became shrewd. A cop, presented with new evidence. Slowly his eyes moved over Oswald, traveling from his head all the way to his shoes and back up again. Oswald repressed the urge to shiver as he felt himself be examined.

“I noticed differences,” Jim said finally, “but I thought it was from whatever had been used to drug me.” He reached as if to touch the side of Oswald’s face but stopped before making contact, letting his hand fall away. He then made a vague motion in Oswald’s direction. “May I?”

Oswald wasn’t certain what he was asking for, but he nodded anyway.

Jim took his hand, the left one this time, and slipped off his glove.

Oswald was puzzled by the way Jim frowned at his fingers, until he said:

“No ring. Not even a line to show where it was.”

“Ring?” Oswald echoed.

Jim gave him a sad half-smile. “We’ve been married almost three years.”

Oswald swallowed. “Oh.”

“It supports your story. That and your hair’s longer.” Jim’s eyes moved upwards to linger on his face. “And you seemed surprised when I kissed you.”

“Ah. I’m sorry, it, well…”

“We’re not together here.” It wasn’t a question, and while Oswald should have felt relieved at not having to explain, he wasn’t.

But he answered anyway. “Um. Well, no.” For some reason the admission filled him with guilt, and he blamed that on what he uttered next. “But I wanted us to be.”

Jim looked surprised. “I turned you down?”

Oswald felt a flash of insecurity. A sudden irrational fear that this Jim would look at him and see what the other one had seen, and he couldn’t bear that.

“I didn’t ask. I, well…” He gave a helpless shrug. “It was complicated.”

Jim nodded, but didn’t say anything to that and somehow that only made Oswald feel worse.

Jim turned to Ed. “Can you undo this?”

“Well, if you’d be so kind as to follow me to the barn…” Ed paused to adjust his glasses and Oswald got the impression it was for dramatic effect. “I guess we’ll find out.”

 


	3. Chapter 3

 

 

Jim squinted against the sudden brightness. Someone was shining a light into his eyes.

“Jim! Jim, come on, wake up.” It was Oswald and he was frantic.

Jim batted the flashlight away. “How’d you get untied?” He was surprised that Oswald had come to him rather than escaping when he’d had the chance.

Oswald didn’t answer, just blinked rapidly before turning to address someone beyond Jim’s range of vision.

“He’s not making sense! Mother, call the ambulance!”

“You are overreacting,” said the distinct voice of Ms. Kapelput, which didn’t make any sense because she was dead. “It is his guilt. It has caused him to collapse.”

Jim moved to get up, only to have Oswald _grab_ him, his arms sliding around his torso as if he intended to help lift him from the floor. Jim pushed him away and staggered to his feet on his own. Apparently feeling persistent, Oswald tried to catch his arm to steady him, but Jim shrugged him off then too.

“What is this?” Jim said, looking around. He wasn’t in the barn anymore, but instead was in a nicely furnished apartment, not as expensive as the one he’d shared with Barbara, but close. “What are you trying to pull?”

Oswald didn’t try to touch him again, but stood wringing his hands. “Jim, you are officially scaring me. Explain yourself, or I will call for an ambulance right now.”

“He’s put his jacket on,” Ms. Kapelput said. “Sneaking out—”

“Mother, don’t start,” Oswald said, before turning a concerned, but equally frustrated, tone on Jim. “Were you cold? Getting a chill can be a sign of—”

“Look! He’s taken off his wedding ring! I knew it. I knew he would run out on you, Oswald. I warned you, but you would not listen.”

Jim blinked at her, stunned by the accusation. It had almost sounded like she thought he and—Why would she think…

_Oswald_. Jim shot a glare at the other man. He had no idea what the purpose of fabricating such a story would be, but obviously his motives were bad.

Oswald frowned down at Jim’s hand, clearly upset that Jim’s arrival had blown holes in his story—although if he was so concerned about that, he probably shouldn’t have transported him to his hideout in the first place. And here Jim had thought he’d been on the run, living in sparse and frigid conditions, all because of his involvement in the murder of the man who’d killed his mother—who turned out to be alive and well and sharing a nice home with her fugitive son.

“You don’t seem to be feeling well.” Oswald’s voice had become too cheerful, false. He took ahold of Jim’s wrist. “Why don’t we go—”

Jim yanked his hand away. “Did you use drugs? Hypnosis? Is that how I don’t remember leaving the barn?”

“Barn?” Oswald’s brow furrowed in confusion, as if he didn’t already know, and that just infuriated Jim even more.

“Yes, the one where I handcuffed you to the railing before I—” He was abruptly cut off when Oswald’s clamped a hand over his mouth.

“Jim!” Oswald hissed loudly into his ear, making him wince. “Don’t—not in front of _mother_.” A blush spread across his cheeks.

Jim jerked away from Oswald’s hand, his anger turning into a hard knot in his stomach. He had no intention of keeping up this charade of a made-up relationship. He opened his mouth to say just as much, but Oswald spoke first.

“Please, let’s talk in the bedroom.”

Jim took in his pleading expression, and while that certainly wasn’t going to sway him—there was much he planned to say, whether the other man wanted him to or not—it was true that he’d get information out of him faster if they spoke in private.

“Fine.” Jim gave a curt nod.

Oswald’s shoulders sagged in relief, although worry was still etched in his brow. He turned to start down the hall.

“We’ll be back in a moment, mother.”

“I will be here for you, Oswald. Always know that.” Her voice was distraught, as if Oswald was going to some terrible fate.

Considering the likelihood that Jim was about to uncover that Oswald was at the heart of some sort of elaborate scam, she was probably right.

“Now I know mother is prone to fancy,” Oswald said as soon as the bedroom door had been shut behind them. “But you’re acting rather strangely and—”

“Did you fake her death?”

Oswald looked taken aback, he opened his mouth but no sound came out.

Jim didn’t have time to play that game. He grabbed him by the shirt, and Oswald gasped, his eyes widening.

“You know what? That isn’t important, right now I’m more concerned about that big glowing device, or bomb, or whatever that was in the barn.”

“Not so rough!” Oswald managed to force a smile even if it was mostly nervous, and his voice was light, as if he wanted this to be some sort of joke. “Mother will start to claim I’m a battered husband.”

“I’m not your husband. Why the hell would you say that?”

The hurt on Oswald’s face was instant and deep and completely genuine. It was then that Jim realized that Oswald believed every word he was saying.

How was that possible?

Details that had been teasing at the edge of his mind rushed to the center. There was no bruise on Oswald’s face. His hair was neater, trimmer, and his skin was healthier looking, his cheeks less hollow. Time had clearly passed, and as the pieces fell into place that began to make sense. It would take time for conditioning to be implemented, for memories to be replaced. Someone had put a lot of effort into this set up, someone with considerable resources.

Someone who couldn’t be the man trembling in his grasp, staring at him with an expression that held equal parts worry and…heartbreak.

Jim released his hold, only to have Oswald’s hands shoot up to grip his wrists, keeping them locked together.

“Jim, I think—I think we should call someone. You don’t have to take an ambulance if you don’t want to. I could drive you. But if you can’t—if you don’t…”

Jim needed to figure out exactly what had been done to them and who was responsible. Something he wouldn’t be able to do if he spent the better part of the day in the ER.

“You’re right,” Jim said, softening his tone. Oswald’s brainwashing wouldn’t be something that could be broken instantly. He’d have to play along until he could get him help. “I wasn’t making sense. I don’t know what came over me.”

It was clear Oswald didn’t believe him. “But the things you were saying—”

“I didn’t mean them.” Jim gave Oswald a smile he hoped would seem apologetic. “I think I had a bad dream and it took me a moment to shake it.”

“Passing out is not OK,” Oswald insisted, although he released Jim’s wrists, his fingers trailing down Jim’s arms before he crossed them over his chest.

“I know. I’m probably overworked and the stress is getting to me.” At least that’s what the people in his past relationships had said often enough. Maybe Oswald could be convinced of the same, even if it did feel odd talking to him as if they were intimate when they had never even been friends, nor even particularly friendly. “I’ll start taking better care of myself.”

“You should see a doctor.”

“Tomorrow.”

“But what if you get worse before then?” Oswald frowned as if something had occurred to him. “Maybe I should cancel the party.”

Jim had no idea what party he was talking about, but if they were going to some event tonight, it would have to be connected to whoever had put them in this situation since there was no way one of Gotham’s most wanted would even be able to attend something like that otherwise. And on the off chance it wasn’t connected, an event like that would still be a good way to get a lot of people together at once so he could scout for information.

“That’s not necessary. I’ll be fine.” He saw Oswald start to protest and quickly cut him off. “But I promise to tell you if I start to feel any worse.”

Oswald sighed, but finally relented, giving him a small nod. He leaned closer only to stop, and after a moment’s hesitation, a flicker of uncertainty crossed his face. It took Jim a moment to figure out why, and by then Oswald was already turning away, a dejected slant to his shoulders.

He’d been seeking reassurance, wanting something to show that things were alright between them—with the man he thought was his husband, who’d just given him a serious fright and then behaved abrasively in front of his mother.

Jim winced at that. This was exactly the sort of thing that made him bad at relationships, why he tended to leave the other person feeling badly, even when he tried his best. To see Oswald as miserable as all the others, even in a fake affair, made something twist inside him. He was so tired of being a disappointment.

“Oswald, wait.”

Oswald turned back to look at him, and the hurt that lingered in his eyes was proof that Jim had been right.

But now that Jim had his attention, he wasn’t sure what to do.

“What is it?” Worry began to return to Oswald’s features, which was the opposite of what he wanted.

Jim took Oswald’s hand into his own, and even though he’d expected as much, it was still strange to see how easily he let him do it.

“It’ll be alright.” Jim gave a gentle squeeze to fingers that were cool and thin, but grasped him firmly back.

He was wholly unprepared for Oswald to fling himself into his arms, hands clutching tightly at the back of his jacket.

“If this is all an elaborate plan to leave me,” Oswald said, his voice rough and muffled from where his face pressed into Jim’s neck, “don’t expect anything less than the most time consuming and agonizing divorce proceedings in all of Gotham. I will do everything in my power to make certain that the amount of paperwork you’ll have to fill out will be unending.”

Jim laughed, startled. “You certainly know how to threaten.” He let his hands rest lightly on Oswald’s back, felt him sigh into him at the contact. It was strange how something so small could have such a big effect. Jim didn’t know if it was that thought, or the feel of Oswald’s lean frame nestled against his chest, that was making his heart beat faster. Either way, it wasn’t unpleasant.

“If I caused this,” Oswald continued. “If it’s because of the job. I can—I mean, mother thinks—”

“Don’t worry about that now,” Jim interrupted, prompted by the sudden urge not to know what Oswald had gotten himself involved in this time. Although he shouldn’t have, he should have let him talk because there was a chance it was connected.

“Did you need to rest before the party?” Oswald asked after a moment. He pulled back to look at him, and that gave Jim the opportunity to see that there was a tenseness in his face that suggested this was one of those questions that had a “right” answer.

Jim didn’t know what that was, but hopefully it wouldn’t matter too much, because he needed answers more than he needed sleep.

“No, I’m not tired.”

A flash of relief crossed Oswald’s features before he masked it. “Well, I could use your help with the decorations, but you have to promise to tell me if you start feeling ill. Or if—”

“I’ll be fine,” Jim cut him off, trying to hide his dismay, because of they were decorating then that meant that they were hosting the party. He didn’t have time to do something like that when someone was conspiring against them. But if he wanted to avoid suspicion, he didn’t see how he had a choice.

“Let me take your jacket, you don’t want to overheat.” Oswald didn’t wait for him to answer, just started peeling it off him.

Jim was puzzled to find that he was still wearing the same suit he’d had on when he’d gone into the barn. On a hunch, he reached into his pants pocket and felt a slip of paper. A quick glance while Oswald was putting his jacket into the closet, revealed it was the same note Ed had sent him, telling him of Oswald’s intention to turn him in to clear his own name over Galavan.

He couldn’t possibly have been in the same clothes for the time it would have taken Oswald’s conditioning to take, or for his bruises to heal. Something wasn’t making sense.

He slid the note out of sight as Oswald returned.

“You really need to be more careful of where you take your ring off,” Oswald said. “Especially around mother.”

“Sorry,” Jim said, still preoccupied.

Oswald sighed, then kissed him on the cheek.

_That_ snapped Jim out of his reverie. He looked over to see Oswald smiling fondly at him, and it was so familiar it sent a jolt through him. It had been awhile since Oswald had looked at him like that. He was surprised to find he’d missed it.

“Come on, the tinsel isn’t going to hang itself.”

Jim managed to nod, even if between the mystery of their circumstances and the resurgence of memories, it was hard to care about Christmas decorations.

“I’d have said mistletoe, but you invited Harvey.” Oswald wrinkled his nose. “So tinsel will have to do.”

Jim snorted. It was surprising to note that Oswald wasn’t that unpleasant of company, at least not when he’d forgotten that he was a criminal intent on manipulating everyone around him.

It was all Jim could do not to act surprised when Oswald linked his arm into his.

“Ready?” Oswald asked.

“Sure.” The sooner they started the party, the sooner he had a way to figure out exactly what was going on.

 

#

 

“Can’t you figure it out any faster?” Oswald demanded.

“Every time I stop to answer that question,” Ed said, glancing up from where he sat on a bench, his features marred by a faint green glow emanating from the contraption, “I lose my focus. And when I lose my focus, it makes it take a little bit longer.”

Oswald jerked a hand through his hair. Every second Jim was in the other universe was a potential moment for something to go terribly wrong. It was very likely he’d already been arrested, or even locked up in Arkham if he’d said the wrong things to the wrong people. He needed to get him back before something irreparable happened. Before—

He jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Sorry,” Jim pulled his hand back. “Habit.”

Oswald looked up to see Jim had had stopped watching Ed as he worked, and had shifted his attention to him.

“It’s alright,” Oswald said.

“You looked lost in thought.”

Oswald hadn’t been aware that he’d been that obvious. Considering how much worse the situation was for this other Jim—who was stranded, potentially forever, far away from anyone he’d ever known, while a doppelganger made a mess of his life—he’d expected him to be too preoccupied to notice.

It was probably insensitive of Oswald to only be thinking of his own Jim. He felt like he should say something.

“If, uh, the Jim Gordon from this universe causes any trouble for you in yours, I apologize. I hope you will be able to make amends.”

Jim gave him a strange look. “Do you always apologize for things you didn’t do?”

“Of course not,” Oswald answered quickly, feeling inexplicably embarrassed. But it didn’t seem to help because Jim was looking at him all too perceptively.

But instead of calling him out on it, Jim merely shrugged.

“We didn’t get along at first either,” Jim said, after the silent had stretched out long enough for Oswald to think the conversation had stopped. “It was my fault—well, mostly. I didn’t approve of some of the decisions you made, or your work.”

“Well, that’s certainly true here as well.” Oswald forced a tight smile. “Although, at the moment I’m unemployed, so I do have that advantage.”

“You’re a good person,” Jim continued, as if Oswald hadn’t said anything. “I didn’t see it at first, but that’s because I didn’t know what to look for.”

Oswald was not a good person. Maybe in this other universe he had Jim fooled, but that would never happen here.

He was so tired. He’d been working so hard to make sure Jim would be alive and well, first from Ed and then to make sure he came back safely—all so he could resume despising and avoiding him. His heart clenched. Damn it, he’d thought he was past this.

“Hey,” Jim reached out to place a hand on his shoulder again, and this time Oswald didn’t flinch.

Instead he looked directly at him, intent on keeping his emotions in check, only to catch sight of the affection in Jim’s expression, and Oswald’s breath stopped.

“Here I am going on about all this stuff,” Jim said, giving him an apologetic smile, “when you’re worried about your friend.”

It was like a punch to the gut, and Oswald averted his eyes, silently cursing as his vision blurred for the second time that day. But oh, how that had cut. Suddenly it seemed vitally important that this Jim never know how little they’d ever meant to each other.

“Maybe we’re looking at this wrong,” Jim said, his tone unexpectedly lighter.

Oswald took a breath before he responded, willing his eyes to dry. “What are you—”

“Maybe we should worry about our other selves getting along _too_ well.”

There was something in his tone, something unfamiliar, and it took Oswald a moment to figure out exactly what it meant.

“Oh,” he said when it sank in. “Well, there is no chance of that, you have my word.”

Jim raised an eyebrow. “I kissed you.”

“Yes, well, that was quite different. Jim would never allow me to kiss him.” Oswald forced a smile. “Your husband’s virtue is safe.”

“But maybe it wouldn’t matter.” Jim’s tone was playful, and Oswald got the sense he was merely trying to distract him. “Who does what with who, if we’re all the same.”

Oswald imagined another version of himself kissing his Jim and felt an irrational stab of jealousy, but before his thoughts could become too dark, he felt Jim step closer.

“You think I’d get in trouble if I kissed you goodbye?”

“I-I, um.” Oswald felt heat spread across his face and he looked away, hoping it would be mistaken for redness from the cold. “How would I know?”

“I know you well, but you know you better.”

Oswald was quiet for a moment, before he decided to answer honestly. “Most likely.”

Jim smirked at him, but he didn’t look displeased. “That’s what I thought.”

“Not to spoil the moment,” Ed said. “But if my calculations are correct, I think we’re about ready.”

 


	4. Chapter 4

 

“So, Nygma,” Jim said in his detective voice, and it instantly put Oswald on edge.

Ed, however, wasn’t paying attention. He was staring at the parallel universe device, his brow lightly furrowed and his index finger pressed to his lips.

“Ed?” Jim tried again, more forcefully. He was wrapped in a quilted blanket he’d borrowed from the house, and while it should have made him seem less imposing, somehow it didn’t.

“Hm?” Ed said finally, blinking as if he’d forgotten they were there.

“Was it you who handcuffed Oswald to the porch?”

Oswald’s pulse spiked, and he spoke quickly before Ed could answer.

“Jim, ah, I think it might be better if certain facts weren’t discussed. In case they have some sort of impact on each other’s worlds.”

Jim gave him a long look. “This isn’t time travel, I don’t see how it could.”

“Yes, but it’s…” Oswald struggled to find a better reason, but before he could, Jim reached out and took hold of the handcuffs dangling from his wrist.

“These are police issue.”

“Yes, but not mine,” Ed said. “They don’t give us those in forensics. Well, unless they’re evidence. But then—”

“It’s not important whose they are,” Oswald interrupted. “What is important is that we get both Jims back to their correct universes, wouldn’t you agree?”

“There are things I need to know, Oz.” Jim’s gaze was intense and fixed on him, his voice serious. “Like what happened here with you. And how one of my coworkers is capable of building a machine capable of—”

“I didn’t build it,” Ed said. “I found it. If other me hasn’t, then you are completely safe.”

Jim shifted his focus to Ed. “Why did you use it on me?”

“It was a mistake.” Ed held up his hands, offering a sheepish smile. “Terribly sorry. Looking forward to making things right.”

Jim frowned as if he didn’t entirely believe him.

Oswald tried again. “I, ah—Well, I can assure you that nothing like this will ever happen again.” He smiled but it didn’t make his words seem any less awkward.

“Did I handcuff you?” Jim asked.

Oswald jolted, and then cursed himself at the knowing look that crossed Jim’s face.

“Why?”

“It was a misunderstanding.” Oswald’s heart was pounding. He tried to remind himself that it didn’t matter what this Jim thought of him, that he’d be gone in moments.

Jim let go of the handcuffs to trace the bruise on Oswald’s cheek. “Was this a misunderstanding too?”

“You didn’t hit me,” Oswald said quickly. “I fell. On the ice—that part was true.”  _ Mostly _ .

Jim gave him a searching look but finally nodded. “And what happens to you when he comes back?”

Oswald was taken aback by that, he’d been braced for another accusation.

“I’m going to help explain,” Ed offered. “It’ll be alright.”

“Will that work?” Jim asked Oswald.

“I…” Oswald caught the look Ed was giving him, urging him to get it together, and forced himself to continue. “Of course, everything will be fine.”

Jim’s frown deepened. He started to say something but Oswald cut him off.

“Jim, just—please.”

Jim sighed. He ran a hand through his hair before pulling it back under the blanket.

“Fine,” he said. “Give me your word and I’ll let it go.”

It was still such a novelty to hear that his word meant something, and despite how serious the situation was, Oswald’s chest swelled a little with pride.

“Yes. I promise.”

“We’ve only got a few minutes left,” Ed said. “We’ll need to get in position.”

 

#

 

The image of Oswald Cobblepot, the self-proclaimed King of Gotham, putting up Christmas decorations, was not one Jim would have been able to imagine prior to actually seeing it. It was one of the only times he’d seen him without a jacket or vest on. His shirt sleeves were pushed up to his elbows and he was flitting—that really was the only word for it, even with his limp—from room to room, making last minute adjustments to the holiday arrangements.

Jim was also quick to discover, that Oswald was not the whistle-while-you-work type. He wanted everything just right, and his stress was obvious in how his face would scrunch up as he tried to evenly distribute the lights, or in the little grumbles he made to himself as he rearranged the holiday coasters.

It was… He wouldn’t go so far as to call it  _ appealing _ , but, well, there was something about it that made Jim want to be involved. Maybe it was just that it was the first time he’d seen Oswald care about anything that wasn’t illegal or morally repugnant.

Jim had been told he had a hero complex before, and really, that was the only explanation for it when he took the step ladder away from Oswald, reasoning that of the two of them he was the one who had better balance, and not because there was anything adorable about a frazzled Oswald with bits of tinsel in his hair.

“Are you sure you should be climbing a ladder? What if you pass out again?” Oswald said, fretting.

“I’m fine,” Jim insisted as he hung the garland, or fake icicles, or whatever it was the shiny silver stuff was called.

“Well, I hope you don’t expect me to catch you, James Gordon. You’d only wind up knocking me to the ground too.”

“Wouldn’t be the worst place to land,” Jim said, the flirty remark rolling right off his tongue.

The sudden silence behind him was telling, and it gave Jim just enough time to register what he’d said.

“Well, someone’s feeling better,” Oswald said in a tone Jim  _ had _ heard before, more than once in fact, but now he could clearly hear it for what it was.

He was surprised to find he enjoyed this more playful side to Oswald. Of course, he was only going along with it to keep up the pretense of the relationship until he could get to the bottom of Oswald’s brainwashing and his memory loss, but it was still notable how little effort it took.

Oswald stepped beneath the ladder, as close as he possibly could, and Jim found himself leaning down to hear what he had to say.

“Later tonight,” Oswald said, “After mother goes home…”

Jim felt relief that she didn’t actually live with them, before he remembered that wasn’t anything that concerned him.

“Maybe you could show me just how much better?” Oswald sounded too proper to be talking to someone he was married to. It was oddly cute.

Jim shook the thought away.

Oswald stroked his fingers along where Jim’s hand rested on the ladder. He was waiting for an answer.

A dozen noncommittal answers flitted through his mind, but he sensed almost all of them Oswald would take as a rejection.

Well, he was supposed to be playing along, so what did it matter?

“I’m looking forward to it.”

Oswald beamed at him. He started to open his mouth to say something else, only for something to catch his eye behind Jim and he gave a sharp intake of breath.

Jim twisted around to see what had happened. He didn’t see anything out of the ordinary, just Ms. Kapelput setting small objects wrapped in newspaper on a living room table.

“I told her ‘no,’” Oswald complained to no one in particular. “There isn’t time.”

Oswald strode towards her and she didn’t pause in her unwrapping as he approached.

“Mother, we’re not putting these out until tomorrow.”

“And what message does that send?  _ This _ is why he is unhappy with you, Oswald. You must show him he is important.”

Jim wasn’t harboring any illusions as to who “he” was. Ms. Kapelput had been eyeing him ever since he’d left the bedroom in a way that wasn’t particularly friendly.

The last thing he wanted was to get involved in an argument between mother and son, especially when it was about him. But he found himself climbing down the ladder anyway.

Oswald closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “It is precisely  _ because _ these are important that I don’t want them out where guest might drink a little too much and knock them off the tables.”

“If you keep these put away he will think you are ashamed of him.”

Oswald’s eyes snapped opened. “Of course, I’m not ashamed of him.”

“Does he know that?”

“I know,” Jim said, and it wasn’t a lie, whatever else he had to play along with, he really was certain of that.

Oswald shot him an appreciative glance. “See, mother, there isn’t anything to worry about.”

The look Ms. Kapelput gave him was guarded, but Jim found he wasn’t bothered by it. He could only imagine how much it must have startled her for her son to bring home a husband out of the blue. She barely knew him, and was only protecting her son, and even if her tactics were a bit heavy handed, it was good that Oswald had someone who was so concerned for him. He was glad she wasn’t dead after all, even if he did intend on having a long talk with Oswald about that once he was back to his old self.

While Jim had never been the best at making good impressions with the parents of those he was involved with (Barbara’s estrangement from hers had been a welcome relief), he figured he should probably at least try to let her see him as something other than a stranger.

“Why don’t you go do what you need to do,” Jim said to Oswald. “I’ll help your mother box these up.”

The look Oswald gave him was slightly surprised, before becoming pleased. He leaned up and kissed Jim’s cheek again, and this time Jim was ready for it and didn’t startle in front of his mother.

He was feeling pretty proud of himself, ready to prove he was the doting partner than her son deserved, when he picked up a partially unwrapped item and froze.

“I would not expect your mother would be happy to know her heirlooms were away in a box.”

Jim turned the ceramic sled over in his hands. It was unmistakably the same candle set his mother had put out for the holidays when he was a child. That someone had managed to get a replica…

He picked up a second item, a picture frame, and saw the inscription on the front, the one his mom had so proudly etched herself:  _ Gordon Family Christmas _ . Behind it was a photo, but instead of the one of his parents and him, there was only him and Oswald, in matching suits with coat tails and purple bowties he must have had to have been drunk to have considered.

Something wasn’t right. Photographs could be faked, but why were these here? They weren’t particularly important. No one would travel all the way to his mother’s house just to get some Christmas decorations. There would be easier ways to…

To what? Fake a relationship? It was beginning to seem very unlikely that someone would go through so much effort.

“You know he does all this for you,” Ms. Kapelput said, and then, changing focus. “Use an entire sheet of newspaper or they chip.”

Jim did as she said, his mind only slightly on the task. He couldn’t stop thinking that neither Oswald nor his mother thought anything was unusual except that Jim had become ill and was acting strangely. Everything was the way it was supposed to be. The only oddity here was Jim.

“It is unfair of you to feel challenged because you have married a man who makes more money than you.”

Jim looked up at her, surprised. “What?”

“My Oswald has worked hard, all through school, and even despite his hardships, he has done well. And this change now, to private practice, is to please you.”

Jim frowned at her words. The way she described him, it almost sounded like Oswald had a legitimate job. Of course, he could have lied to her, but somehow he was starting to think that was less of a possibility.

“He has been a good husband to you, for several years now, and you should be ashamed for trying to run out on him.”

“I won’t run out on him,” Jim said automatically, but his mind was spinning at the implications.  _ Years. _

He’d collapsed. He didn’t remember how he’d gotten here or anything since the explosion. Maybe he was still unconscious. The thought of him freezing on the floor of the barn in some type of coma wasn’t a pleasant one, but it was starting to seem more likely than that this was a hoax.

As far as dreams went, it wasn’t the strangest he’d ever had. The thought of being married to Oswald, while initially shocking to him, wasn’t exactly unthinkable. It was true that he had the urge to strangle him more often than kiss him, but if he were honest, the difference wasn’t much.

The Christmas party was an odd setting, but made sense for the time of year. It could have been worse, he could have imagined himself trapped in something made by the ghost of Christmas future, or in  _ It’s a Wonderful Life _ or other holiday classic that he’d never actually paid close enough attention to, to get more than the gist, only that life could be lead differently and that it wasn’t too late to change.

“Here.” Ms. Kapelput handed him a newspaper. “Use more. There wasn’t enough before.”

“Thanks,” Jim said as he took it from her. He noticed the date and was surprised to see it was the same as the the explosion. The paper was fresh, as if newly printed, and featured a picture of the Waynes. Frowning at the morbid reminder of their deaths, he glanced down at the headline, and gave a sharp intake of breath.  _ Waynes Host Annual Christmas Parade. _

Jim turned to Ms. Kapelput. “The Waynes are alive?”

“Who?”

“Thomas and Martha Wayne. They’re hosting this year’s Christmas parade?”

“Of course, they always do. Why would they not?”

Jim set the paper down and stepped away from the table. The Waynes were alive. Just like Ms. Kapelput. Three people who were supposed to be…

Unless maybe the blast had been worse than he’d thought. Maybe he hadn’t made it. Maybe he, and everyone else here, were dead.

That didn’t explain why Oswald was here. Unless someone, or something, had gotten to him while he was handcuffed to that post. He had a lot of enemies. Or if no one had found him, it was possible he would have died of exposure. Or starved. The thought of Oswald trapped like that for hours, maybe  _ days _ , made him sick. He’d always intended to come back for him.

Oswald stepped out of the kitchen, and Jim blamed that thought for what happened next. For how he ignored Ms. Kapelput’s protests as he walked away from his task to step into Oswald’s path. Or for how he took him by the shoulders, squeezing to reassure himself that he was real and not some sort of ghost.

“Jim—what’s wrong?” He looked so startled, and Jim couldn’t help it, he pulled him into his arms.

“I’m sorry.” He wasn’t even sure what he was apologizing for. Worrying him again, or not believing him, or for leaving him to die on an old wooden porch.

Oswald relaxed into his hold, his own arms wrapping securely around Jim’s back. “There’s no need for apologies. You were sick. You weren’t yourself.”

It was said with such confidence, as if he genuinely believed that Jim would never intentionally hurt him, that something inside Jim twisted painfully. He didn’t deserve such faith.

“And all is right again,” Ms. Kapelput cheerfully announced.

Oswald huffed, a sound somewhere between exasperation and amusement.

Jim let go of him, embarrassed now that attention had been drawn to his display. Oswald, however, seemed relaxed and pleased, as if small, spontaneous shows of affection were something he was used to.

“I need to get ready,” Oswald said. “Would you mind helping me with my tie?”

It was difficult to imagine that Jim’s fingers would be more deft at that task than Oswald’s, but Jim knew an excuse when he heard one.

“Sure.”

Oswald took his hand, and this time Jim allowed himself to be led to the bedroom.

“I thought you could use a moment of privacy before the guests arrive,” Oswald said, after he closed the door.

“Thanks.” He watched as Oswald took a jacket from the closet, but before he could put it on, Jim asked, “Would you do me a favor?”

“Of course.” It was said without hesitation, Oswald didn’t even look up.

“Tell me how we met. About how we got together, I mean.”

Now Oswald looked up. “Well, that’s a strange request. Coming from you.”

“I just want to hear you tell it.”

“And here I thought you said I tell it too much.” Oswald flashed him a smile. “But if you insist.”

Jim smiled back, but he was bracing himself. Hearing the parts he couldn’t recall would give him insight and needed information, but he was bound to hear things he wouldn’t like, things that would shatter the rose-tinted image of Oswald that had begun to develop.

“So, as you know, I had developed quite the reputation with the GCPD.”

Jim did his best to keep his expression encouraging.

“It wasn’t entirely my fault. When I first accepted the position of public defender, I hadn’t yet had the pleasure of meeting so charming an officer as yourself. And so I didn’t see the problem in doing whatever it took to win.”

Jim froze. Oswald was a lawyer? He couldn’t possibly be—that took schooling and resources and—

He forced himself to take a breath. This wasn’t proof that they were dead and this was some sort of afterlife. It was still possible he was merely in a coma. All he had to do was listen and eventually things would start to make more sense.

“And then when I did meet you,” Oswald continued. “You didn’t approve of my methods.”

Jim could imagine.

“You thought I was overzealous, but unlike your coworkers, you were a little more understanding, your father having been the DA and all. You tried to explain why it was a bad idea to discredit the reputations of members of the police force.” Oswald smiled self-deprecatingly, and Jim was surprised to see there was pain in it. “But I, of course, didn’t listen.”

Oswald finished adjusting his coat and looped his tie around his neck before he continued.

“Tensions were bad, but nothing serious happened until after I exposed a certain officer’s indiscretions. Many on the force suspected what he was going to do, but after how I’d acted, well, they weren’t going to intervene.”

Oswald’s fingers were shaking lightly, and Jim took over for him, finishing the knots.

“If you hadn’t come down to the pier that day,” Oswald said, his voice quiet. “I think he’d have broken a lot more than my leg.”

For the second time that day, Jim was the one to initiate their embrace. It didn’t matter if this wasn’t reality, it certainly felt real enough. He didn’t want to see him hurt like that.

Oswald melted into him, and  before Jim realized what he was doing, he cupped Jim’s face between his hands and drew him into a kiss.

Jim froze, surprised, but didn’t pull away. He’d only intended to provide comfort, but he found himself drawn into the press of Oswald's lips against his. The intensity of it. There were so many times he’d wondered what this would be like, but this was better. Oswald kissed like Jim was the only thing in the world, like he was the only thing worthy of his attention.

Jim slid his arms down Oswald’s sides and pulled him firmer against him, hearing the other man murmur happily at the increased contact.

For years there had been so much tension between them. It didn’t matter if this was a hallucination, or afterlife, or whatever it was, Oswald was here, warm and eager, and Jim wanted to know what he tasted like, what sounds he made, and how his face would twist up in ecstasy.

He wanted to take him by the hand and lead him to the bed, push him down onto the covers and keep kissing him, down his jaw, his throat, teeth nipping at the skin around his collar bones until Oswald was squirming beneath him, panting.

Jim broke the kiss. “I want you.”

“Now?” Oswald looked surprised, but his eyes were dark, his skin flushed. “The party is in less than an hour.”

Jim was disappointed that he wouldn’t be able to take his time with him. Not disappointed enough to give it up though.

He pressed his lips to Oswald’s throat. “What if I promise not to mess up your clothes.”

“Jim!” Oswald laughed, but his hands dropped to run teasingly down Jim’s chest. “Let me hang up my jacket first.”

“Hurry.”

Oswald grinned at him, but no sooner had he turned away, then a wave of sickness hit Jim, followed by disorientation.

He stumbled backwards. He reached out for the bed, but felt only air. The temperature had dropped dramatically, it was so cold.

It was too bright. He couldn’t see. Just like when the explosion had hit.

When he landed on the floor, he was surprised to feel only concrete.

  
  



	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for how long this chapter took to post! I ended up adding some scenes, so there will be one more chapter after this. The next part is already written though, and just needs to be beta read and looked over a final time. Thank you for your patience <3

“Tell me why we have to go outside again?” Oswald asked.

“We need to be out of range,” Ed said, “unless the two of us want to be swapped out as well.”

Oswald frowned. “I thought you programmed it to just take Jim?”

“I did. Or, well, a living thing the size of Jim, and apparently some things in contact with him since he didn’t arrive au naturale.” Ed started to smirk, only to seem to notice Oswald’s impatience and continue quickly instead. “But there could be problems if more than one similarly sized living thing is nearby.”

“What sort of problems?” Jim asked.

“Well, it might only take most of you.” He began to trace Jim’s outline with his finger. “But then maybe an arm from Oswald.” He switched to tracing Oswald’s form. “I don’t know.”

Jim grimaced. “You’re not inspiring confidence.”

“Well, I didn’t build it. My expertise is limited here.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have been messing with it then,” Jim said, his voice flat in a way that reminded Oswald of their own Jim, and that caused Ed to look at him sharply.

Oswald spoke before things could escalate. “How far away do we need to be?”

“Not far. Outside the door would be enough.” Ed took his gloves from his pocket, looked at them as if to make sure he knew where they were, and then stuffed them back in. Finally, he looked up only to seem surprised they were still watching him. “Did you want me to set the timer now?”

Oswald hesitated. He knew he should say yes, but it was hard when there were so many ways he could imagine something going wrong.

“Go ahead,” Jim said, making the decision for them.

Ed nodded and moved away to adjust the device.

It was understandable that Jim would be eager to get back home, and to get back to his Oswald, or rather his “Oz.” It was still strange to hear Jim call him by that name, and certainly impossible to imagine his universe’s Jim ever doing so.

Well, no matter, Oswald had no intention of slowing him down. Before the urge to say something foolish overtook him, he began to move towards the door.

“Oswald, wait.”

He stopped, his heart fluttering at Jim’s voice in spite of himself. Muttering a curse at his own sentimental stupidity, he turned back around only to discover that Jim had closed the distance between them.

“It’s going to be colder outside with the wind,” Jim said, his voice low and warm. He reached out to turn up Oswald’s collar, fastening the top two buttons so that less of his neck would be exposed.

Oswald was touched at the gesture, even though he knew the kindness wasn’t because of anything he’d done. He hadn’t earned this. It was happening entirely on the merits of the other Oswald, but he appreciated it just the same.

“You need a scarf. Actually...” Jim started to take the blanket from his shoulders.

“But, Jim, it’s freezing in here, and—” Oswald fell silent as the blanket was wrapped around him.

“I’ll be gone in a minute.” Jim let his hands rest on Oswald’s shoulders. “Back at home. Besides, I’d rather not risk taking anything from here with me.”

Oswald nodded, even as part of him wondered if the other Oswald would have given in, or if he would have insisted that Jim be the one to stay warm.

Thinking about the differences left a cold feeling in his stomach, and so instead he said, “Well, so, this is goodbye then.”

“Yeah.” Jim pulled him in for a rather robust hug, although most of the touch was lost to the bulk of the blanket.

Oswald held him back tightly anyway. He would miss this.

“Goodbye, Oswald.” Jim pulled back to give him a fond smile. “Promise me you’ll take care of yourself.”

“I will.” It wasn’t a complete lie. He would make every effort to look out for himself. Whether fate would cooperate was another story though.

“The timer is set,” Ed announced. “We have two minutes.”

Jim let go of him and stepped back. “And don’t hesitate to ask other me out.”

Ed snorted in the background, and Oswald felt himself flush.

“Maybe you could give him a hand,” Jim said, this time to Ed. “Help make up for your ‘mistake.’”

The look Ed gave him was measured, but then he said, “Fair enough.”

Oswald blinked at that. His tone had been unexpectedly neutral, lacking the snark he would have expected. The thought of him playing matchmaker was frightening. But no, Ed would have no reason to do that. He was likely only telling Jim what he wanted to hear.

“Goodbye, Jim,” Oswald said, and he realized he was repeating himself.

“Time to go,” Ed said, his hand on Oswald’s elbow as he guided him out the door.

Ed pulled the door shut behind them while Oswald looked out across the snow that sparkled faintly in the fading light. Absently, he remembered his cane was still out there. He doubted he would ever find it now. He’d need to steal a replacement, once he had the chance.

The wind had picked up and Oswald was appreciative of the blanket, even if was sure he looked even more ridiculous in it than Jim had.

“Alright, we’re down to forty-six seconds,” Ed said, tapping his watch. “If you would kindly explain to me the cover story we’re going to use, that would be most helpful.”

Oswald frowned at him.

Ed’s expectant expression slowly turned into a scowl. “You do have a plan?”

“Give me a second.”

“You had  _ hours _ .”

“You’re the one who made this so difficult!” Oswald snapped. “You blamed everything on me—It’s not like he’s going to trust me after that!”

“ _ Oswald _ —”

There was a sudden loud ratcheting sound, the same as from before, but this time Oswald managed to shut his eyes before the light blinded him.

He opened them to exchange a glance with Ed, who despite his greater experience, was pressing his hands over his eyes in discomfort.

Oswald moved to open the door.

“Wait.” Ed reached out for him blindly. “We need to decide what we’re going to say before we go in.”

He was probably right, but Oswald stepped around him and slid into the barn anyway.

Jim was lying on the concrete floor of the barn. He was wearing a black suit jacket which was different than the white button up shirt the other Jim had worn, but not the same as the winter coat from before. Oswald felt a sinking feeling, what if this wasn’t the right Jim either?

Jim groaned and Oswald started to go to him, only to stop, uncertain. Whether his own Jim or another, there was a very good possibility that his assistance wouldn’t be welcome. Although surely a simple gesture of help wouldn’t be amiss…

Jim shoved himself into a sitting position, and then to his feet, settling the matter before Oswald could act.

He appeared disoriented, but slowly he looked around, taking in the device and the barn, as well as Oswald and Ed, who had finally managed to come in behind him.

Oswald found himself holding his breath as he waited for Jim’s reaction.

“What did you do to me?” Jim demanded, but despite the accusation he didn’t draw his gun, and Oswald took that as a good sign. “Was I in some sort of trance?”

“It will be difficult to believe,” Ed said. His voice was tight in a way it hadn’t been when talking to the other Jim.

“Try me.”

“Well,” Oswald cut in, only to flounder. “It was—um, well you see, Ed only wanted to—”

“What Oswald is trying to say, is that I found a device…” Ed cleared his throat. “That one, right there behind you, if you want to look, yes. I would stop to explain to you how it works, but I fear the nature of the discussion—”

“Get to the point,” Jim said.

“Yes, of course,” Ed said, but he didn’t continue.

This was ridiculous. One of them should be able to do this.

“That device,” Oswald offered, “is capable of sending people to parallel universes. When you, um, went into the barn earlier, it—well, it accidentally activated. You were caught in it.”

Jim’s eyes narrowed and Oswald continued quickly.

“You were switched out by another version of yourself. But don’t worry, he didn’t do any harm. He was here with us the entire time, he had no contact with anyone else.”

“As I said,” Ed added, “It may be difficult to believe.”

Jim gave them both a long look. “Do you have proof?”

Oswald looked at Ed who shook his head.

“No, I’m afraid we don’t,” Oswald said. “But if there’s something we can do that would—”

“No. That’s not necessary right now.”

Oswald paused. “Then you believe us?”

“I haven’t decided yet.” Jim took something from his belt. Oswald caught a glimmer of metal, but couldn’t quite make out what it was.

“Come here.” He held out a hand towards Oswald.

Oswald felt a flicker of apprehension, but he forced himself to approach.

When Oswald was within range, Jim took hold of the handcuffs dangling from his wrist.

“You’re not putting the other one back on, are you?” Oswald asked nervously, but he didn’t pull away.

“No.”

Jim’s grip was gentler than it had been when he’d put the cuffs on, and Oswald felt a rush of relief when his wrist was suddenly freed.

“Thank you.” He smiled at Jim. “They were starting to chafe.”

Jim gave him a brief nod before turning his focus to Ed, and Oswald was surprised to find the abrupt dismissal stung. Which was ridiculous. He had no reason to be bothered by that. Really, he’d already gotten more than he’d expected in that Jim had decided not to arrest him.

“You said you found that?” Jim nodded towards the device.

“I did,” Ed answered, his tone cautious.

“Is it safe to transport by car?”

A frown flashed across Ed’s face. “Yes. Or at least, I was able to transport it here without a problem. You’re not thinking of taking it with—”

“Where did you get it from?”

“That’s a bit more complicated.”

To Oswald’s surprise, Jim didn’t press the subject, but merely nodded. “I figured as much.”

Ed smiled in relief. “I’m glad you understand.”

Jim crossed the few steps to Ed and took ahold of his upper arm.

Ed tried to yank his arm free, but to no avail as Jim dragged him over to a bench beside one of the stalls, well out of reach of the device.

“What is the meaning of this?” Ed demanded as he was pushed down onto the seat.

Jim snapped the handcuffs around one wrist and the other to a metal bar in the stall door.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“The note was very specific. That I needed to look for the evidence in the barn. You targeted me on purpose, so you’re under arrest for assaulting an officer.”

Oswald was stunned, and it wasn’t until Jim had finished reading him his rights—and the sound of Ed scoffing and arguing had abated—that he found he was able to speak.

“Jim, this isn’t—you don’t need to—arresting Ed is a bad idea.” He wasn’t prepared for this, of the two of them, he’d thought he’d have a much harder time trying to convince Jim not to arrest  _ him _ .

Jim turned to face him and his expression was stern. No, worse than stern, it was indecisive.

Oswald swallowed, forcing himself to stay calm. He hoped that whatever Jim was considering, it didn’t involve making him next.

“I’m going to see if I can bring the cruiser up here,” Jim said finally, which was not at all what Oswald was expecting. “Can I trust you to wait here until I get back?”

“You want me to…” Oswald blinked at him, he was having difficulty understanding what Jim was asking. “Er, yes, of course.”

Jim made to leave, but stopped with his hand on the doorknob. He looked at Oswald over his shoulder.

“Do I have your word that  _ both  _ of you will still be here when I return?”

The tone was skeptical, but that didn’t stop Oswald from experiencing a small fluttering in his chest. Jim—this universe’s Jim—was trusting him.

“I promise that when you get back, you will find things exactly as you left them.” Oswald ignored the loud huff Ed let out in the background.

Jim nodded at him and pushed the door open. Oswald watched him flinch as the cold struck him. It occurred to him that the reason Jim no longer had his coat was because it must have been left in the other universe.

“Jim, wait.”

Jim turned to face him, suspicion on his face.

“You should take the blanket.” Oswald unwrapped the quilt from his shoulders. “Your other self was wearing it. He didn’t have a coat either.”

Jim’s eyes went to the quilt in his hands, and Oswald found himself wishing it wasn’t quite such a bright and colorful collection of shapes and patterns.

“I don’t need it,” Jim said finally. His expression was hard to read. “But thanks.”

“You’re very welcome,” Oswald said, and then cringed internally at how awkward that sounded since he really hadn’t done anything. “Although it is rather cold, and—”

“I’d rather my hands were free.”

“Oh.” Oswald shifted his weight briefly onto his bad leg and back again. “That’s understandable.”

Jim gave him another nod, although this one was a little deeper, almost a bow, and then he left, the door swinging shut behind him.

Oswald listened to the crunch of Jim’s footsteps in the snow until they could no longer be heard. Once he was sure he wasn’t coming back immediately, he rushed to Ed’s side.

Ed leaned forward as he approached. “You better have a way to get me out of these.”

“Of course, I do.” And then because Ed appeared to be waiting for something, he added, “I will talk to Jim about it, the moment he gets back.”

“You  _ were  _ talking to him.”

Oswald tried not to wince. “Don’t worry, he seems to trust me more now.”

“Well, that’s nice and all, except that he’s  _ arresting _ me.”

“Ed—”

“So help me, if you two bond over the shared experience of taking me in...” Ed pulled experimentally on the bar he was cuffed to, and when it didn’t budge, he glared at Oswald. “This is what I get for helping you.”

Oswald blinked at him. “Helping me?”

“It really would have made things so much simpler if you’d let me go through with my plan. I was doing it for you, after all. Well, half of it anyway.”

_ Oh, of course. _ Oswald’s mood darkened. “I told you I didn’t want Jim harmed, and that includes sending him to—”

“I had intended to clear your name.” Ed’s tone had dropped to match his. “I wasn’t only trying to stop Jim from digging into my activities, and if you’d let me explain earlier, you would know that.”

Actually, Oswald thought it had more to do with Ed never being able to get to the point, but he refrained from saying that.

“How?”

“By discrediting him. And what better way than by having Jim act like a completely different person? They’d think he’d gone insane. I’d make sure he took the full blame for Galavan’s murder, and then once he was sent to Arkham, you could return to your normal life.”

While the thought of destroying the life of Jim,  _ any _ Jim, was disturbing to him, he was touched that Ed had meant to include him in his plans to save himself.

“That was—thank you, for thinking of me.”

“That’s what friends do.” Ed shrugged, but he seemed pleased, and some of the tension that had hung over them faded away. “Letting me go would be a good way to repay it.”

Oswald shook his head. “If we explain, Jim will see your reasons were noble.”

Ed scoffed. “Really? Jim is just going to think it was fine that I was willing to let an innocent, other-universe Jim go to Arkham for his crime?”

Oswald opened his mouth, only to realize he had no good argument, and so he closed it again.

“Exactly,” Ed said. “Now find a way to undo the cuffs before he comes back.”

Oswald growled in frustration. “There has to be another way. I can’t—”

“Wait.” Ed’s expression brightened. “I’ve thought of something.”

Oswald felt a swell of relief, but before he could ask what it was, he heard the latch move on the door.

They both fell quiet as Jim re-entered the barn. He moved cautiously, as if there was some possibility he would be jumped. His gaze went to Ed, and Oswald watched relief flash across his face, most likely at the discovery that he was still locked up.

Oswald couldn’t blame him for that, not really.

As he approached, Oswald noticed something Jim was holding in his hands, and he felt a flicker of confusion.

Jim’s gaze seemed to follow his, and when he caught sight of what Oswald was looking at, he stiffened, as if suddenly self conscious.

“I found your cane lying in the snow.”

Oswald accepted it as it was handed to him. “I, um, thank you, Jim.”

“Figured you could use it.” Jim shoved his hands in his pockets.

“It is helpful, especially with the snow and ice.”

Beside him, Oswald heard Ed sigh, and he remembered what they were supposed to be talking about. He forced himself to bring them back to the matter at hand.

“So, it won’t be necessary. Taking Ed in that is.” He watched Jim’s expression darken, and he continued quickly. “Ed and I had a talk and it seems there were certain misunderstandings. He was trying to help.”

“’Help.’” Jim raised an eyebrow at that.

“See I…” Oswald trailed off. Admitting the next part, the one that involved what he’d done, was harder than he thought. “I… Well, Ed is a dear friend and sometimes, when one has a friend they can trust—”

Ed cut him off. “It may be shared, but works better when not. It can last forever, but if spoken, it’s lost.”

Oswald glared at Ed, but before he could recover the conversation, Jim spoke.

“A secret.”

Oswald had to act quick, to make sure it was phrased in the least damaging way. “I’m sorry, Jim, but I only told him about Galavan because I trusted Ed not to use that knowledge, and I, assure you, that he only did because he thought I was being treated unfairly.”

Jim’s jaw had tightened, but he remained silent, and Oswald hoped that was a good sign, and not that his rage was merely building inside, preparing for a spectacularly violent eruption.

“It seemed unfair that Oswald was on the run while you were free,” Ed said, his tone grave. “I only sought justice.”

“How would switching me for another Jim,” Jim said, his words measured, “have cleared Oswald?”

There was a brief hesitation, then Ed said, “I was going to let the other you make an absolute wreck of your life for a week, and then when everyone was convinced you were mentally unbalanced, I would have switched you back. At that point an anonymous tip would have been enough to reopen the investigation. Followed by some careful handling of evidence, and then the correct man would be arrested for the crime.”

Jim stared at Ed, long and hard, and it made Oswald nervous.

“So, you see,” Oswald said when he couldn’t take it anymore, “Ed only wanted to help me, but I explained that this wasn’t what I wanted. I have no desire to see you behind bars, and Ed has promised to never try anything like that again.”

“Absolutely,” Ed said. “You are safe from me.”

There was another long stretch where Jim didn’t speak, just contemplated the two of them, and just when Oswald was starting to worry that this was going to drag out into a lengthy and potentially unwinnable battle, Jim gave a slight nod.

“Can you disable it?” he asked Ed.

“Of course.”

“Alright, then here’s the deal, you shut it down so I can take it somewhere for safekeeping, and I’ll let you go.”

Ed frowned. Oswald imagined the thought of giving up the device was unpleasant for him. But surely it must seem better than losing his freedom. 

“Well, I guess I was done with it anyway.” Ed gave Jim a solemn nod. “You have a deal.”

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [RowanBaines](http://archiveofourown.org/users/RowanBaines) made [fan art](http://acommonanomaly.tumblr.com/post/157598677633/oswald-bundled-up-in-a-quilt-from-druxykexys-fic) for this and I’m so excited! XD

 

“Do you want me to dismantle it, or merely deactivate it?” Ed asked, rubbing his wrist where Jim had removed the cuff.

Oswald was surprised to see a noticeable red mark, more so than on his own wrist even though he’d worn it much longer. He suspected it was Ed’s own fault for tugging on it so much.

“Does it need to be dismantled?” Jim asked.

Ed shrugged. “It fits better in a trunk.”

“Fine, go ahead.”

Oswald watched as Ed moved to do as he’d offered. After a moment, the glow from the device faded and its quiet hum came to a stop.

Ed took a wrench from a cardboard box beside the bench and began loosening the bolts on the legs. His movements were efficient, and it wouldn’t be long before he was finished. It occurred to Oswald that as soon as he was, it would be time to leave. Jim would go when Ed did, Oswald would be back in hiding, and there was a very good chance they wouldn’t speak to each other again for a very long time. The idea bothered him.

“Well, this was an interesting day,” Oswald said.

Jim snorted, but otherwise kept silent as he watched Ed work. Apparently, he didn’t feel the same urge to talk. Oswald continued anyway.

“So.” Oswald smiled brightly, as if what he was about to say was amusing. “The other Jim told me some rather unexpected things.”

He waited to see if Jim had anything to say to that. He didn’t, although the lines of his shoulders tensed. It wasn’t an ideal reaction, but it was better than open hostility.

Oswald leaned in closer, as if he were sharing a secret that was fun and not merely confusing and potentially traumatic.

“Let’s just say, it’s hard to imagine anything more…” He meant to say _ridiculous_ , but the word stuck in his throat. “Shocking.”

Jim was quiet for a moment, just long enough for Oswald to regret bringing it up.

“That wasn’t the most shocking thing.”

Oswald blinked at him several times in confusion before he realized his error. The idea of their marriage had been notable to him, but it was likely something Jim just wanted to forget.

“Of course, that was rather presumptuous of me.” He snaked a hand out of the blanket so he could wave away his words. “Finding out you’ve been to another universe is bound to be more startling than a little romance.”

Sometimes he wished he would just stop talking.

Jim raised an eyebrow at him. “It wasn’t that either.” His focus returned to Ed. “It was what your job was.”

Oswald froze. He’d thought he’d been prepared for everything, but that possibility hadn’t even occurred to him. Although in hindsight, it should have. He knew exactly where this was going.

He tried to contain his grimace. “Oh.”

“Want to know what it was?”

_No_ , but he answered anyway. “Let me guess, other-me was a pillar of society. If only I change my wayward manner, I too could be—” Oswald cut himself off because Jim was laughing.

Not hard, not excessively so, and it was smothered quickly, but it was enough to make even Ed pause and look up at them. But the tone was the biggest surprise. It wasn’t derisive. Nor was it meant to exclude, but to draw him in. But surely that had to be wrong, after everything that had happened, Jim would have no reason to be _playful_ , and certainly not towards him.

Oswald decided to risk it. “I’m truly not going to enjoy hearing this, am I?”

“You won’t.”

“Fine.” Oswald waved him on. “You may as well get it over with.”

“You were a lawyer.”

Oswald inhaled sharply. “You’re joking?” He was too stunned to pay attention to Ed’s amused chortle.

“Afraid not.” Jim gave him a sideways glance, a wry smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Public defender, in fact.”

“I can see it,” Ed offered.

Oswald shot him a glare, but Ed didn’t appear fazed.

“It took me a moment,” Jim said, “but I can too.”

Oswald was having difficulty finding the insult in his tone. “Wouldn’t that have put us even more at odds?”

Jim shrugged. “Not necessarily. My father was the D.A. My views aren’t as strong as some of the others in the force.”

“As interesting as all that is,” Ed interrupted. “You’ll be pleased to note that I’m finished.”

Oswald looked to where the device had somehow been compacted to fit into the cardboard box that the wrench had been taken from.

“So, if you have no further need of me?” Ed asked.

“Go on home.” Jim gave him a brief wave.

Ed nodded. He started to take a step but then stopped. “Oh, one thing before I go. Other-you asked a favor.”

Oswald frowned. He couldn’t remember them talking enough for him to have asked—

Oswald jerked to attention. “Ed, that isn’t necessary.”

Jim’s eyes narrowed. “What’s this about?”

“I just wanted to know if other-Oswald is still alive?” Ed spread his hands, palms up, out before him.

“Why wouldn’t he be?” Jim’s brow creased in confusion.

“Well, if he tried to kiss you the way other-Jim kissed this Oswald…”

Oswald sputtered and Jim spun to look at him.

“You kissed me?”

“I didn’t—it wasn’t—”

“If you’d been listening,” Ed interrupted, “you’d know it was the other way around. Other-you was definitely the aggressor. Not that Oswald tried to stop you, of course.”

Jim’s gaze flickered briefly to Ed, only to return to Oswald. “Why didn’t you try to stop me?”

“Because he didn’t know it was other-you,” Ed answered for Oswald. “He thought it was you-you, and that you’d finally decided to reciprocate his feelings.”

Oswald opened his mouth but no words came out. He couldn’t think of anything that would counteract the damage that had just been done. Jim would go from barely tolerating him to outright revulsion. And Ed had, Ed had—

Ed would _pay_ for this. His hands balled into fists, tightening on his cane inside the quilt.

“Oswald?” Jim’s voice was low and confused, his frown deep.

“It… I didn’t…”

“Told you,” Ed said cheerily.

“Leave us,” Jim ordered.

For a moment, Ed looked like he might argue, but then he merely nodded.

“See you at work, Jim.” Ed moved to leave, but as he passed Oswald, he whispered, “You can thank me later.”

“I most certainly won’t! I’m going to—” Oswald let the threat die as Jim stepped into hearing range.

Ed didn’t seem alarmed, just gave him an odd little smile before he slipped out the door.

Jim followed him to stand in the doorframe, as if he intended to keep an eye on Ed until he drove away.

Oswald let the silence stretch for as long as he could. Which turned out to be approximately ten seconds.

“Well, I don’t think there is anything left to say about that,” Oswald said. “A foolish misunderstanding.”

“Is it true?” Jim didn’t turn to face him, but continued to gaze out the door.

“I can swear to you that nothing untoward happened.” Oswald realized that Jim might not agree with that, and he winced. “I mean, nothing other than kissing. And we can pretend that it never—”

“I meant about what you believed.” Jim’s voice lacked inflection, he sounded every bit the detective, seeking answers while giving away nothing of himself. “That I had feelings for you?”

It didn’t matter that Oswald couldn’t read any judgment in his tone, the words cut just the same.

“Ridiculous, I know. How could a man like you love someone like me?” Oswald tried to make himself smile, as if it was all part of some incredible joke.

“You didn’t think the sudden change in behavior was strange?”

“ _Of course_ , I thought it was strange. But you’d been in some kind of blast—you seemed disoriented, and I thought…” Oswald stopped. He tightened the blanket around himself.

Jim was quiet, and Oswald could see him turning over his words in his mind.

Finally, he said, “And you thought that that was how I’d felt all along?”

Oswald didn’t have it in him to deny it. “And that your disorientation lent it voice. I’m an idiot. Now let’s move on and never speak of it again.”

“But you wanted me to?” Jim shifted as if uncomfortable. “Love you, that is?”

“ _Jim_.”

“I need to know.”

“I wasn’t _opposed_ to the idea. Now can we please stop talking about this?”

Jim’s expression went largely unreadable. “OK.”

Oswald should have felt relieved. But before he could begin to process exactly why he didn’t, he was startled by the press of Jim’s fingers beneath his chin, and he flinched at the coldness of his touch.

“Sorry.” Jim pulled back. “I left my gloves in my coat.”

“Well, if you’d taken the blanket when I offered it, you wouldn’t have that problem,” Oswald snapped, only to instantly regret it. It was frustrating that whatever gesture Jim had meant to make had been ruined before he could school his reaction, but attacking him further wasn’t going to help. Everything had been easier with the other Jim—with this one he just kept making mistakes.

But Jim only snorted, as if Oswald’s outburst wasn’t particularly bothersome.

He pointed at Oswald’s eye. “That looks bad.”

“It’s fine.” He’d honestly almost forgotten about the bruise. The pain in his chest was much worse.

“No, I was too rough. I shouldn’t have tackled you.”

Oswald shrugged, even though there was a part of him that enjoyed hearing him say that. “I think the ice bears most of the blame.”

Jim’s face twisted into a sad smile. “It was probably for the best that I left when I did, considering the way things were going.”

“I don’t think you were intending to push me to the ground again.” Oswald frowned in confusion. “Although you were determined to arrest me, so in that sense—”

“I meant leaving the other universe.”

_Oh that_. Oswald felt something inside him twist. “Can we save me having to hear about how you barely dodged the misfortune of kissing me for another day?”

Jim huffed, and Oswald was stunned to realize that it was in _amusement_. That was far more insensitive than he would have imagined Jim capable of.

“It’s not funny, Jim. Just because—”

“I nearly slept with him.”

Oswald blinked, and when that didn’t help clarify that statement, he blinked some more.

“You…”

Jim shrugged, and if Oswald wasn’t imagining things, he looked a little flushed.

It didn’t make any sense. Jim didn’t like him. He could hardly stand to look at him. It was unthinkable that he would want to see him in his bed, stripped of his hesitance, his clothes…

Oswald inhaled sharply, and he felt heat spread across his face and neck. “How much did you see?”

“See?”

“Of…” Oswald made a sweeping gesture to indicate his body.

Jim’s eyes followed the motion, and it was all Oswald could do not to look away.

“No clothes came off,” Jim said quickly as understanding dawned. “Not yet.”

Oswald felt some of his tension ease, but not all of it. “You really intended to…?”

Jim grimaced, and seeing that stung. Clearly this wasn’t a memory he wanted to linger.

Oswald knew it would be in his best interest not to push, not if he wanted to avoid something he didn’t want to hear. But he couldn’t help himself.

“What did he say to make you—was it—” Absently, he was aware that this was a new low, even for him. There was no point in searching for the key to make Jim fall for him, for the magic phrase to spring the lock on his affections, not when the problem wasn’t the things he’d never said. It was what he’d become. And he could never return to being the Oswald who wasn’t damaged. The one who wasn’t vile.

“Oswald—”

“You know what? That’s OK. I’m probably better off not knowing.” He smiled, he wasn’t sure why. “We wouldn’t want someone like me to know what it was that had that effect on you both, and use it for my evil plans.” He laughed, but it sounded hollow even to him.

“That wasn’t—”

“We both know I have nothing in common with him,” Oswald said, cutting him off. He didn’t want to hear verbal confirmation of his inadequacy. He’d been hurt and humiliated enough for one day. “Although I must say, I hadn’t expected someone with such a sweet and benevolent character to be your type, not after—ah!”

Oswald was yanked forwards by the front of the blanket, held firmly in Jim’s grasp. He started to protest only for Jim’s mouth to close over his own.

The kiss was rougher than with the other Jim. He was being pulled against him hard, as if Jim thought he might try to escape, and there was an edge of desperation that hadn’t been present before. Oswald felt something in him uncoil at that, because it matched his own.

Oswald wanted to throw his arms around him, to hold Jim here with him just as tightly, but his arms were trapped inside the quilt.

Jim pulled back but didn’t move away. “It’s true. He was sweet.”

Oswald flinched. “If that’s what you think—why would you—”

“Don’t.” Jim released his hold on the fabric, moving his hands to caress Oswald’s shoulders and give them a gentle squeeze. “I’m not saying this right.”

When Jim didn’t continue immediately, Oswald asked, “What did you mean?”

“The other me was better too. I don’t think either of them would have been happy with either of us.”

Oswald wanted to deny it, to say that in some way they weren’t that broken, that they could find happiness, but he couldn’t because it wasn’t true.

“Why, Jim, you are full of surprises.” Oswald knew he sounded bitter, but he couldn’t help it.

Jim let go of him. “What are you—”

“I never would have thought you were the type for goodbye kisses, but some things—”

“That wasn’t—”

“—Are impossible to predict. I’ll always—”

“Damn it, Oswald, will you stop making this harder than it needs to be?”

The sudden frustration in his tone gave Oswald pause. “ _Me_? How am I making it harder?”

“I’m trying to tell you that I’m not opposed to this either.”

“You…” Oswald’s resentment fell away, only to be replaced by confusion. “You’re not?”

“I’m not,” Jim repeated.

Oswald stared at him for a moment. “What exactly aren’t you opposed to?”

“I want us to get to know each other better.” Jim’s tone was softer now, more intimate, and it was making it hard to focus on the words. “And I’d like to kiss you again. If that’s alright.”

“I…” Oswald let go of his cane and lunged forward, barely noticing as the blanket dropped to the floor, or the “oof” Jim let out as he wrapped his arms around him. “Yes, I’d like that.”

Jim squeezed him back and pressed a gentle kiss to Oswald’s mouth. There was affection in it, more than Oswald had dared to imagine.

He felt Jim shiver, and it drew his attention to how cold Jim felt beneath his clothes.

“You’re freezing still,” Oswald said. If Jim was going to be his, then he was going to take better care of him. Not that he would have wanted Jim to freeze before, but he was determined to do something about it now. He imagined that Jim’s car would have a heater, but that would mean he was leaving, and he wasn’t ready for that yet.

“I’m alright.”

“We can share my blanket. It’s big enough for both of us.” Oswald hesitated, it still felt strange to make such an offer, daring even, because it was always something he would have expected to have refused.

But Jim only nodded, and then let go of Oswald to pick up the blanket and shake it out.

“Let’s sit down then.” Oswald felt his chest swell, proud that his offer had been accepted.

They arranged themselves on the bench that had so recently held Ed, pressed together with Jim’s arm around his side.

“This is a lot better,” Jim said, although he was still shivering slightly.

“I offered it to you before. More than once.”

“I’m stubborn.” Jim smiled at him, and it was similar to how the other Jim had smiled when he’d believed he was someone else, but this time it was for him.

“I don’t mind,” Oswald said without thinking, and then blushed at the inanity of that statement.

Jim didn’t say anything, but curled his fingers a little firmer around Oswald’s side.

They sat like that for a while, with him leaning against Jim’s shoulder. He knew this wasn’t something that was likely to happen again, at least not anytime soon. He would have to go back into hiding, and if he was caught, it wasn’t like he could expect to see Jim come visit him in prison. But none of that changed that this memory would be one he would cherish.

“Ed was right,” Jim said, breaking the mood.

Oswald groaned. “Please don’t talk about Ed. And don’t ever let him hear you say that, we’ll never hear the end of it.”

Jim let out an amused huff. “I won’t.”

After a moment, Oswald decided he had to know. “What was he right about?”

“It’s not fair that you’re on the run while I’m not.”

Oswald sat up straight. “You can’t go on the run too. Not after they cleared you and—”

“No, I don’t mean like that.” Jim twisted around to look at him. “I want to clear your name too.”

Oswald paused. Clearing his name wasn’t something he’d considered possible. But having a detective help would make a big difference.

“How?”

Jim’s smile was lopsided, as if it couldn’t fully form. “By doing things I’m not going to like.”

It meant a lot, what Jim was suggesting. Compromising his morals wasn’t something he did lightly. But neither was it something he could do too much before it took its toll on him, made him into someone he was not.

“We can keep it minimal,” Oswald said cautiously. “And maybe, I can make up for it somehow.”

“Don’t. It’s not your burden.”

Oswald was taken aback by that. “Excuse me?”

“I mean, don’t worry about me. At this point, the wrong has already been done. Leaving you in the lurch isn’t doing anyone any good.”

Oswald hesitated. “I don’t want you to regret this.”

“I won’t.” Jim tightened his arm around him, and Oswald allowed himself to be drawn back against him.

“Do you think Ed will help?” Jim asked after a few minutes.

Oswald thought about it for a moment. “Can the two of you work together?”

Jim snorted. “I’m sure we can.”

“Then probably.” It would mean Oswald would end up having to thank him after all. But he decided that was alright, his desire for murder had faded around the time Jim had kissed him.

“Good.” Jim’s free hand sought Oswald’s, capturing it and pulling it into his lap. “Where are you staying?”

Oswald worried at his lip as he considered the question. He wanted to say something reassuring, but he also didn’t want to lie to him unless it was over something that couldn’t be helped.

“Nowhere at the moment, but I might be able to stay here for a few days. I’ll have to ask Ed.”

“Is this place his?” Jim sounded surprised.

“No, he’s borrowing it.”

“Ah.”

Oswald could tell Jim wasn’t satisfied with that, and sure enough it wasn’t long before he voiced his concern.

“It’s far away. It would take too long to get to you if something went wrong.”

“I don’t have a lot of options.”

“My apartment.”

Oswald sucked in his breath. “But, Jim, if you get caught with me there…”

“That won’t happen.”

Oswald knew he should say no. It would be a risk for Jim, regardless of what he said, and agreeing would only prove that he was selfish.

But he was tired and hungry and he wanted to stay with Jim more than anything.

“It would be wrong of me to accept.”

“Do it for me. For my peace of mind.” There was concern in Jim’s voice, and that was his undoing.

Oswald huffed. “Don’t expect to get your way every time.”

“Thank you.” Jim pressed a kiss into his hair and Oswald melted into him.

“We should go soon,” Jim said. “I need to make arrangements for that machine of Ed’s.”

“What are you going to do with it?”

“I know someone who can store it.”

The answer was vague, but Oswald didn’t press. In this universe, Jim would have his secrets too, and the thought was almost a relief. Another thing he wouldn’t have to feel guilty about.

“Are you ready to go?” Jim asked. “After we get back to my place, I can pick up some take-out.”

The thought of warm food was almost enough to make him cheer. It had been so long since he’d had something that wasn’t fit to be thrown out.

“I’m ready.”

Jim stood before turning to help Oswald up. “Then let’s go home.”

 

#

 

One moment Jim was standing in the freezing barn, and the next he was lying on his bedroom floor being vigorously shaken by his husband. And it _was_ his husband, he could tell from the neatly clipped hair that had been pushed up on one side and the slightly fuller curve of his cheeks.

Jim grabbed him, crushing him against his chest in a fierce hug. “God, I missed you.”

Oswald stiffened in his arms. “Twice falling unconscious, twice not making sense, that’s it, I won’t be stopped from calling an ambulance this time.”

Jim laughed, he couldn’t help it, even though he knew doing so did nothing to help his case. It was just good to be home. He hoped the other Jim and Oswald were doing equally well. Probably not, but maybe with time things would get better for them.

“I love you,” Jim said.

“That _won’t_ get you out of this.” But then he watched as Oswald’s stern demeanor faltered, as always, because he could never resist saying it back. “I love you too.”

Jim grinned. He pushed himself up into a sitting position and when Oswald started to pull away, he tugged him onto his lap. He had every intention of kissing him for as long as he would let him.

Oswald, unfortunately, had other ideas.

“I’m sorry, Jim, but I’m no longer in the mood. Finding my husband passed out on the floor has a tendency to do that to me.”

Something about that phrasing bothered him. _No longer in the mood_. Well, he’d ask him about that later.

“I can explain, but you’re going to have a hard time believing me.”

Oswald’s expression was shrewd, but Jim could see that some of his panic was fading.

“I promise that I won’t pass out again. Why don’t we go enjoy the party, and afterwards—”

“You already promised me that if you got worse—”

“I haven’t, I swear. What went wrong had nothing to do with my health. I can explain everything, but let me do it after the party.”

“Jim—”

“Please.”

Oswald gave him a look. “That’s not fair.”

“I’ll even go to the doctor tomorrow if you think it’s necessary.”

Oswald groaned. “Fine, but your explanation better be good.”

“It will be.”

They stood up together, a process that was harder than it should have been because neither one of them seemed inclined to let go.

Jim straightened his shirt. It had gotten a bit wrinkled, but it would be alright once his jacket was on. He started towards the closet, only to be caught off guard when Oswald suddenly grabbed his hand.

“You found your ring! Where was it?”

Jim hadn’t thought to come up with a story for that. “It, uh…”

Oswald should his head. “Never mind. All that’s important is that it’s back.”

Jim snorted, he couldn’t help himself.

“What’s so funny?”

“I’ll tell you in a few hours.”

Oswald huffed, but he didn’t press.

Jim smiled at him. It was good to be home.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Gobblepot Winter challenge. Vaguely following the prompts "ice" and "party."


End file.
